Until the Stars Fade
by Avalain Nightshade
Summary: It's been sixty years since the battle of Erebor, and Avalain is still overcoming her grief from her lost love. Although she has begun to heal and live normally once again, everything changes when Gandalf requests her help with yet another impossible task. One thing leads to another, and Avalain finds herself needing to protect her loved ones, or risk losing them, too.
1. Chapter 1

On the 31st day of October, the year 3017, Avalain Nightshade was happily visiting her best friend, Legolas Greenleaf, in Mirkwood. Agonizingly long years had passed since last the two had met, and Avalain was exceptionally glad to be reunited with him now. It had taken a fair amount of pleading with her father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, for her to be allowed to travel to Mirkwood all on her own… but eventually, she wore down her poor father and finally received his blessing to traverse to the Greenwood.

October 31st was the tenth day of Avalain's visit, and she and Legolas were spending it perched in a tree, eating from a knapsack of apples and oranges that they had stolen from the kitchens. It was a peaceful afternoon. The sun shone through the branches of the trees and poured onto Avalain's face, which she loved, and she was spending the time with her best friend since childhood. Needless to say, Avalain's happiness was quite complete.

"Today has been one of the best days I've had in a long time," crooned Avalain, grinning in elation.

Legolas laughed shortly and held up an orange wedge as if to toast her words. "You've said that every day for the past ten days," he reminded her.

Avalain shrugged. "It is worth reiterating. Besides, I would not say as much if it were not true."

Legolas said nothing to that, but all his thoughts were displayed in his face. Avalain could read him quite clearly; he was immensely joyful, just as she was. It was obvious that he had missed her just as much as she had missed **_him._**

"I have also missed this woodland," sighed Avalain, leaning against one of the tree's branches. She didn't mind that her dress snagged onto the thorns of a vine. Rare moments of carefreeness were worth a dress or two. "Despite what occurred last here, I still have an overwhelming amount of good memories from childhood."

She was rewarded with another laugh. "The bog," was all he said, but it was enough to set them both to helpless giggling.

"Never again will I step foot in that bog," wheezed Avalain, dropping her apple with sheer mirth. Her face began to hurt from her consistent smiling, but of course she couldn't just stop. Legolas seemed to notice her conundrum and only laughed harder as well, which didn't help.

"Oh, stop it!" she exclaimed, coughing. "You can be cruel sometimes, Legolas."

"Avalain, if I wanted to be cruel to you, I would dare you to jump off another waterfall."

Avalain smiled, recalling how she'd earned Legolas's respect all those years ago… she'd leapt off a waterfall as he had dared her to, and thus won the right to his friendship. That had been the deal.

And so she replied, "That is hardly cruel. Look what your dare brought me. It has brought me more joy than I ever dared hope my life would have, and the best friend that I cannot live without. We've been through so much together. If I had to jump off another waterfall for you, I would, Legolas."

The smile upon Legolas's face warmed Avalain's heart.

"I am glad to hear it," murmured Legolas, his sky-blue eyes boring into her own. "And of course, the reverse has always been true—and so it shall always be."

To hide the silly grin that threatened to break over Avalain's face, she seized another apple from the knapsack and bit into it.

For a while, it was silent, each of them taking pleasure in the other's company. Avalain could hardly get enough of the peace, even though she was granted six months in Mirkwood. Although six months was relatively short a time, she was grateful for it. After all, it was six months she'd be spending with her best friend, so she was hardly upset about the restrictions.

An hour later, however, the two decided to climb down the tree and return to the palace. It was nearing dusk when Legolas said, "Come, Avalain. Certainly my father shall be expecting you home soon."

"I find it odd that your father is so concerned for my well-being," mused Avalain, glancing at Legolas sideways. She had sensed something off ever since her arrival… she figured it had to do with what happened the **_last_** time she had been in Mirkwood.

Without her realizing it, Avalain found herself thinking about Fili and the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Her heart grew heavy as her mind pictured her Dwarf's face—it had been nearly sixty years since the adventure, and Avalain had healed quite well over the time… but it still hurt her greatly to remember her lost first love.

Legolas was quiet, but Avalain saw that his lips were pursed slightly. She knew that look. He was restraining from saying something. While normally Avalain would've inquired what was on his mind, she did not wish to spark an argument about the past or resurface faded memories, whether they were good or painful.

After a moment, Legolas spoke anyway. "It is because my father cares for you greatly, Avalain. Your father would never forgive him if something were to happen to you, either… you are not only a daughter to Elrond of Rivendell, but to Thranduíl of Mirkwood."

Avalain laughed. "And to Gandalf the Grey too, it appears. I suppose I am shared amongst the powers of Middle-Earth!"

Legolas's lips twisted into a smirk, and he opened his mouth as if to say something—but then he closed it again.

"What is it?" pestered Avalain, a grin at her lips. "You were going to speak."

But Legolas shook his head and answered, "I will tell you when you're older."

Avalain gaped at her friend, disbelief filling her. "When I'm **_older?_** " she repeated, wondering if perhaps she'd heard incorrectly. "You must be joking, Legolas. I am nearly two thousand years old!"

Legolas smirked. "Excellent. Then I am your elder by only seven-hundred years."

"So you're going to tell me in seven-hundred years?" gasped Avalain.

"Oh, well, hopefully not **_that_** long," murmured Legolas softly. His response triggered an astonishing number of questions in Avalain's mind, but of course when she asked them aloud, she received no solid answers.

The entire trek back to the palace was like this: Avalain ceaselessly pestering him about his connotation behind his words, Legolas avoiding her questions and accusations as best as he could. By the time they returned, Legolas was both amused and annoyed by the game. Avalain, meanwhile, was laughing so hard that tears were filming in her eyes.

Seeing the expression on her dearest friend's face, she exclaimed, "Do you yield to me now, my friend?"

"No!" he retorted, whirling around and staring at her in the eyes. There was a smile on his face as he answered, but there was also a serious look in his eyes as he added, "You shall learn in time, Avalain. This I promise you."

Avalain laughed and lightly shoved Legolas to the side. "You know I am only bantering, Legolas. I meant nothing by it. I hope you are not angry with me."

"I could never be angry with you, Avalain," said Legolas, his normal smile again on his face. "I just cannot have you spoiling this surprise I have for you."

Avalain raised an eyebrow, but for the sake of the surprise, did not inquire further.

At that time, the two were walking through the hallways of the palace. Before much longer, they were passing the throne room. As always, King Thranduíl was lounging upon his throne. He was speaking to one of his guards, but seeing Avalain and Legolas enter, the King cut the conversation short and summoned the two over.

Once his son and Avalain were in front of them, King Thranduíl held a letter out to Avalain and explained, "My dear, this letter has arrived for you from a certain wizard. I was told it was urgent, but knowing the nature of wizards, I would not be too concerned. You should be enjoying your time here with us, not worrying over another storm of the Istari."

Avalain could not help but laugh at Thranduíl's flippantness. He never took the matters of wizards seriously, despite the fact that Gandalf's true warning saved the lives of Mirkwood Elves the last time they had all been together.

Nonetheless, the Rivendell Elf took the letter and said, "Thank you, my King. Don't worry about the contents of this; Gandalf might only be writing to say hello."

King Thranduíl raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. "Whatever you say, Avalain," he mused, his usually piercing eyes quite warm. His gaze then traveled to Legolas. "My son, please remain here for a moment. I must speak with you alone."

Avalain tried not to feel petulant. Usually, King Thranduíl included her in everything… but she knew that she could not be informed of everything, and so she bowed and exited the room, the letter between her fingers.

Once she was alone, she carefully used a knife to open the envelope. Now that the letter was free, Avalain smoothed it out and began to read:

 _My dear Avalain,_

 _I have heard that you are traveling to the Greenwood. I must ask that you do me a favor. These past few weeks, I have been hunting a creature named Gollum. He is an emaciated being who suffered from the effects of a ring of power, but he no longer has it, and it is integral that I discover where he has gone. The last he was seen, he was heading toward the Greenwood. If you ever locate him, please inform me immediately and follow him as best as you can._

 _I wish I did not have to impose this upon you, but alas, this is an urgent matter. Answers are necessary. I apologize for being unable to write more, but I must set off immediately for the Greenwood myself. If all goes well, perhaps I shall see you there soon._

 _Gandalf_

After reading the letter, Avalain frowned. She had heard before of the creature Gollum, though she had no idea what he looked like, or what importance he held. She looked again at the section of the letter that explained Gollum's association with a ring of power…

This made her uneasy. The three Elven rings were all hidden. Avalain only knew where one of them was—with her father, Lord Elrond. She was certain that the Mortal rings had all been taken by Sauron. The Dwarvish rings, she had no clue where they lay.

"Which ring could he have possessed?" she whispered to herself. She did not doubt Gandalf's knowledge… she only wondered how it was possible.

After a moment of thought, Avalain figured that perhaps it was one of the Dwarvish rings. Not all of them were accounted for, after all—yes, she decided. Gollum must have possessed a Dwarvish ring for a time.

Five minutes passed before Avalain was rejoined by Legolas. As her friend neared, she attempted to smile at him; Legolas, however, seemed to see right through her façade.

"What is it?" he questioned.

In answer, Avalain held out the letter.

Legolas took it from her outstretched hand and began to read. Avalain watched his expression as he read… she recognized every nuance of his face. The way his eyebrows furrowed together, the slight scrunch of his nose. It was all very familiar to her, all Legolas. She could still read him perfectly despite all the years they'd spent apart.

It wasn't until Legolas said her name that Avalain realized she was completely lost in thought. Flushing, she retook the letter that he held out to her.

"What do you make of it?" she asked softly, looking back at the letter.

"I think we should keep an eye out for Gollum," replied Legolas. "I shall inform the guards to keep an intense watch for the creature. With luck, someone shall spot him soon."

Avalain frowned somewhat. She trusted the guards of Mirkwood, but she also felt that Legolas, like his father, was underestimating the importance of Gandalf's request. And so she remarked, "Do you think we should explore the woods ourselves to look for him?"

"It is dark now, Avalain," answered Legolas, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It would be most unwise to return to the forest. Although the Necromancer in Dol Goldur has been banished, the woods are still filled with remnants of dark magic. We can search for him tomorrow, when dawn's light can guide us."

And before she could speak again, Legolas ushered her towards the kitchen, where King Thranduíl would be waiting for them for dinner.

* * *

Greetings, everyone! I hope everyone's had a good day so far. I wanted to take this little opportunity to say thank you for reading this chapter, and if you have any comments, concerns, or questions, feel free to leave them in the little review box down below!

Have a good one!


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning, Avalain rousted Legolas at the crack of dawn. He was not surprised in the slightest to hear of her determination to find Gollum. Because he had been expecting it, he was ready in only a few minutes with his bow, a quiver, and his hunting knives by his side.

Hours passed, and there was absolutely no sign of anything passing close to the Elven kingdom, much less Gollum exclusively. Avalain could tell that Legolas, although he was enjoying recalling previous adventures, was beginning to lose faith in the grey wizard's warning.

When at last it was noon, the Prince of Mirkwood said, "Perhaps Gandalf was wrong. Gollum may not have passed this way."

Although Avalain felt very dearly for Legolas, she was slightly affronted by his assumption that Gandalf was wrong. She looked up to Gandalf like she looked up to no other—not even her father. And so she retorted, "I do not doubt him at all. You must remember that the wood is quite vast. Perhaps he just has not come near this portion of the trees."

"What would you suggest then, Avalain? Would you recommend that we split up? That we progress to another sector of the forest?"

"I would suggest the latter," the She-Elf serenely returned. She was not inclined to be parted from Legolas, but she was also not inclined to give up so easily. "It is only noon, after all. It would speak poorly of us to disregard what could be an important warning."

Legolas sighed, but walked forward with a smile on his face all the same. "Then let us proceed," he relented, waving as if to gesture her on.

Avalain smirked and did so.

Another few hours passed, and the sun's light grew warmer through the trees. Despite the light's aid, there was little to be found of any tracks on the ground. The two elves persistently kicked aside fallen leaves to see if they overlooked anything, still to no avail. By the time sunset was nearing, Avalain was beginning to wonder if Gollum had fled to the north instead of the south…

Just as she was about to speak, however, Legolas remarked, "Avalain, it shall be dark soon. We should return to the palace."

"I don't understand," she mused, choosing to ignore her friend's suggestion. She glanced around the forest floor and the orange, red, and brown leaves that littered it. Kicking some aside with her foot, she persisted, "We've checked the ground wherever we could. This is close to where I entered the forest—we are almost straight along the Elven road."

"A creature such as Gollum may not care for roads."

Avalain sighed. "No one can navigate these trees without guidance."

With these words, she gazed along the trees, searching for another ray of helpful light. As she perused the treetops, however, she froze.

"There!" she exclaimed, pointing to the branches of a tall tree. Dropping her bow and quiver, she reached upward for a sturdy branch to grab.

Legolas was bemused. "What are you doing?"

Not deterred from her task, Avalain grunted as she pushed herself to the next ledge, "Climbing! I saw something."

Her friend merely laughed and called, "You are thinking wishfully, Avalain! Please come back down."

"No!" she answered, reaching her destination. She crawled across the branches of the tree and gazed at the messy bird's nest she had laid eyes on… It was a very sad sight. Eggs were smashed, the yolks of what would have been baby birds splattered across the nest. A corpse of a dismembered bird lay atop the eggs. The bird's blood mixed with the yolks, forming a sickly orange paste.

Legolas seemed to notice the paleness to her face. Concerned, he asked, "What is it? What do you see?"

Avalain swallowed. "This bird's nest has been ravaged."

"It might have been a spider," he suggested.

The She-Elf shook her head. "No, Legolas," she replied softly. "This is not the work of a spider. A spider would not destroy the eggs like this. It would not mutilate a bird like this. This was… something else. And you know as well as I that there are no woodland creatures here capable of such savagery."

There was a short silence as Legolas seemed to ponder her words. After a moment, he locked eyes with her—seeing the spark of worry and determination in her gaze, he declared, "Alright, I'm coming up."

And after grabbing Avalain's weapons on the ground, he did. Before long, he joined her, perched in the tree. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the bird's nest, and how brutally it had been treated.

"I… You might be right, Avalain," he murmured. He reached out and closed the bird's lifeless eyes. "But how are we to find him without tracks?"

In answer, Avalain pointed behind him. Seeing this, Legolas turned. The branches of the trees were parted, some torn directly off the trees from which they had grown. There was a clear direction of the mess: southward. "He's left a path… He's been traversing through the trees. We can follow him from here."

Legolas looked like he wished to protest, but before he could speak, Avalain added, "Please, _mellon._ I hunted Bolg with you. Will you hunt Gollum with me?"

He opened his mouth as if to refuse; but the recollection of their chase for Bolg made him smile and mumble, "That you did." Then, louder, he said, "Of course, Avalain. I have a suspicion that you would have continued with or without me, anyway."

Avalain giggled at this and stood as best as she was able, crouching along the branches of the trees. Legolas quickly followed, always ensuring that she was steady on her feet.

For thirty minutes this continued, the two elves making their way south. As they progressed, the sun sunk lower in the sky, turning what leaves were on the trees yellow and orange. But Avalain could not help noticing how ominous the woods were feeling… And when the trees ended, both she and Legolas were able to see the source of the darkness.

"Dol Goldur," whispered Legolas, instinctively pulling Avalain backward. "We should not get any closer."

"We've come this far, Legolas," she insisted. "I cannot let Gandalf down now, not while we are so close. Besides, you are the greatest archer in Mirkwood, and I have had my fair share of training. Together, we can overcome **_any_** enemy."

Legolas slowly released the air in his lungs, glaring halfheartedly at Avalain as he did. She returned his glare with pleading; he knew why she was so determined. Gandalf was the first father Avalain had ever had, and she would do anything to help or protect him.

At last, he held his hands in surrender. "Very well, Avalain," he said, shaking his head. "It looks as if you and I shall be having yet **_another_** adventure in these woods."

Avalain laughed and descended the tree they were crouched in. Legolas joined her; once they were together, they each drew their bows, seized an arrow, and moved toward the black stone bridge of Dol Goldur.

As they got closer, Avalain felt an irritating buzzing in the back of her head. She tried to hone her senses to look ahead, but the fortress was covered in so much shadow that she could see nothing. It was eerily silent as well, giving her no insight on what might be awaiting them.

When the two entered the fortress, they were surrounded by black brick. The fortress was half demolished, so the fading light of day was clearly visible. Ahead of them were multiple doorways leading to different chambers.

"This must be where Bolg escaped to when we chased him," mused Legolas, inching forward. He peered into one of the corridors before scoffing, "It is no wonder we could not find him."

"Indeed," replied Avalain, nearing the same corridor. Still, she could not see. "No wonder at all. But you bested him, my friend."

With these words, Avalain entered the doorway. Legolas rushed in front of her, holding a hand as if to hold her back. The gesture made the She-Elf smile. She had a most protective friend.

As Legolas scoured the hallway, however, the buzzing in her ears escalated into a piercing headache. She winced and shied away from advancing further.

This was not unnoticed by Legolas. Concernedly, he placed a hand on her arm and inquired, "Avalain, are you well? We do not have to do this."

"If you are with me, I will be fine." She knew that if she gave any sign of weakness from here on out, Legolas would force her to desist from tracking Gollum. Seeing his doubt, she added, "Please come with me. I must do this for Gandalf."

Legolas nodded. Standing beside her, he moved forward toward the next hallway.

The next thirty minutes were spent with Avalain and Legolas exploring Dol Goldur. The farther they went in, however, the more prominent Avalain's discomfort became. Her head pounded, her ears rang, and her legs and arms were weak. She couldn't even hold her sword by the time they ascended to the topmost balcony of the fortress.

Despite their thorough search, nothing was found—not even a track of Gollum, much less the cretin himself.

Once they reached the top of the tower, Legolas sighed. The two elves gazed over the darkened trees that surrounded the forest and noticed how dark it was becoming… Full night would be upon them in only a few minutes.

"It appears my father was right," exhaled Legolas disappointedly. "There's nothing but a fruitless storm of the Istari."

Though Avalain knew otherwise and was somewhat offended on Gandalf's behalf, she could not answer. Her lips were extremely dry, and her vision was failing.

"Avalain?" asked Legolas. He turned around; his eyes widened. He ran toward her and gasped. "Avalain!"

"Shhh," was all she could think to say. She didn't want him to worry about her. She felt terrible, it was true, but if anything, her deteriorating state proved that there **_was_** something wrong about the fortress.

"No. Don't you dare shush me," snapped Legolas, his bright eyes swimming with panic. Before Avalain's legs could give out, he gently grabbed her and laid her to rest upon his knee. "You're pale and cold. You're—you're... going to be fine. I'm going to get you out of here."

Avalain wished she could respond, but the pain in her head prevented any comprehensible thought. She could feel her heartbeat crashing like an iron pendulum against her tight ribs. She tried to mouth her friend's name, but everything began swirling in blinding colors of black and gray and white.

"Avalain." The whisper was desperate and hoarse, but it was still a promise. "I'm going to get you out of here. On my life, I'm getting you out of here."

"Legolas!"

For a moment, Avalain was confused. She hadn't said his name... but she recognized the voice that had. That was Gandalf's voice… she would know it anywhere.

"Legolas, what has happened?" asked a second voice—King Thranduíl's. It's normally calm demeanor was abandoned as he slowly inhaled and felt the aura of the fortress. "Why is Avalain... I—I feel... she's—she's fading. Legolas!"

Avalain concentrated as hard as she could to focus on the sight above her. She blinked and suddenly, **_finally_** , saw three figures gazing down at her. She was surprised to actually see them. Half of her still believed she was hallucinating.

"There are remnants of the Necromancer's power still in this fortress," murmured Gandalf, as if to prevent Avalain from hearing. His efforts were unsuccessful. "Even the fragments of his formidability are dark enough to weaken Avalain, a descendant of the Lady of Light. He is growing in strength, King Thranduíl. If this does not convince you of the growing danger to the south, I fear nothing will."

A brief silence dominated the conversation. Avalain inhaled sharply, wishing she could speak, if only to apologize for causing everyone trouble.

Hearing this, Legolas whispered, "She can hear us. She is conscious still!"

"Yes," agreed King Thranduíl. His silver stare grew worried as he added, "Legolas, carry her out of here as swiftly as you can. When you return to the palace, find her a healer. Gandalf and I have a few matters to discuss before we follow you."

Legolas nodded and picked Avalain up in his arms. Avalain felt weightless and dizzy as she watched the stars in the night sky pass above her. As she was brought further and further out from the fortress, her pain slowly began to subside. Her chest was no longer tight: her legs and arms began to prick, letting her know the feeling within them was returning. Eventually, she could see and hear properly. Her voice was the next thing to follow.

"Legolas…"

Her friend was so startled he almost stumbled over himself. Seeing her eyes trained unmistakably on his face, Legolas laughed in relief. "Thank the Eldar. Avalain, you were frighteningly close to death upon that balcony."

She nodded. She had felt it with each second they had lingered in the shadow of Dol Goldur. And so she said, "I know. Thank you for bringing me out of that place."

"We are **_not_** going back in there," exclaimed Legolas, quite off topic. Avalain was shocked by the viciousness in his voice as he stated, "I do not care if we did not find a single print of that creature Gollum, I will not watch you die again. I will **_not._** "

"Legolas, I do not want to go back," whispered Avalain, burying her head in the crook of his arm.

This time, Legolas actually did freeze where he stood. Avalain could feel his eyes upon the back of her head as he exclaimed, "You do not?"

"No. I do not. I felt myself dying. And Gandalf is here now… perhaps he can finish what we could not."

Another silence reigned after this, but at last, Legolas sighed, "I am glad to hear this, Avalain. It is about time you gained some sense for your own safety…"

Avalain wished to protest, but she knew she would not have many good arguments. And so she only smiled crookedly and emerged from the crook of Legolas's arm—she was comforted to see she was met with the same smirk.

"So now what do we do?" she asked softly.

Legolas thought for a moment before resuming his walk towards the elven palace of Mirkwood. Finally, he answered, "We wait and see what Mithrandir and my father have for us. Then we take it as it comes… hopefully, that shall be together."

The thought of remaining with her best friend comforted Avalain beyond words. Satisfied, she put a hand on Legolas's arm and said, "I can stand now. Thank you for helping me."

Her friend was doubtful, but at her plead, he let her stand. He was always on guard, however, ready to assist in case she should fall.

Eventually, the She-Elf stood steady. She began walking, albeit a little slowly, toward the Mirkwood palace. Legolas matched her pace, although he kept an arm around her shoulder just in case.

Once they reached the palace, Avalain looked back at Legolas and said, "Thank you for coming with me. I do not know what I would have done without you."

"I would not have missed it for anything. Just remember, Avalain, that if you need me, I shall always come for you."

She smiled; it was a smile that reflected all her admiration and appreciation for her best friend. Legolas saw it and returned one before gesturing her into the elven palace, where he immediately escorted Avalain to her room and sat beside her until she fell asleep.

* * *

Greetings, my dear readers! I just wanted to again state my thanks for you all having read this far; if you like what you've read so far, feel free to leave comments, concerns, or constructive critiques in that little box below! I hope you all have had a wonderful day.

Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, as Avalain was recuperating, Gandalf and King Thranduíl visited her room to check on her. Upon seeing that she was really feeling quite well, thank you, there was no need to worry any longer, they decided it would be a good idea to tell both she and Legolas what they had discussed in Dol Goldur.

Once both Legolas and Avalain were gathered, Gandalf began by bluntly stating, "Sauron has returned to Middle-Earth."

Both the young elves lurched backwards at this news. Of course they had expected this for a while, but the reality of it was foreign and terrifying.

"He has begun to regather much of his former strength," the wizard continued, his blue-grey eyes burdened. "Even sixty years after we banished him from Dol Goldur, remnants of his power haunt the fortress. Further east, his great stronghold of Barad-Dûr is rebuilt, and Orcs are amassing behind the mountains of Mordor. We cannot remain blind to his purpose. Sauron is readying himself for war."

Avalain's eyes widened. She had been instructed by Gandalf himself on Middle-Earth history. She knew what Sauron was, what he stood for—and how powerful he was.

"What can we do?" she questioned.

Gandalf exhaled slowly, pondering this. "First, we must ally ourselves with Men."

"Men," scoffed Thranduíl, raising a single eyebrow in disdain. "Men are not what they once were. They have been weakened by the loss of their king's bloodline. They, more so than any other race on this earth, are influenced by evil. What can we possibly hope to gain from them?"

The wizard looked sharply at the Elven king and exclaimed, "Do you forget the very man whom you sent your own son to find and bring to Rivendell? Do not scoff at me, Thranduíl. There is faith yet to be had in Men."

Thranduíl's only expression was the flash that ran through his eyes.

An uncomfortable silence reigned afterward. Avalain and Legolas exchanged looks. They knew, based on the uneasiness of the silence, that something disappointing would emerge.

True to their suspicions, that was when Gandalf said, "Avalain, I know you wished to stay here in Mirkwood. But I need you to travel to Gondor."

"Gondor?" gasped both Avalain and Legolas. They knew it was no short ride to Gondor, and with winter rapidly approaching, the journey could very well be dangerous.

That, however, was mainly Legolas's concern. Avalain's main objection was that she had never before been to Gondor, though she had once visited its neighbor, Rohan, and therefore had no idea what to expect when she arrived.

"Yes, Gondor," answered Gandalf wearily. A shadow lined his face, as if he did not wish to be asking such a favor from his Elvish pupil. "We must reach out to Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, and solidify an alliance once more between the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth."

Avalain opened her mouth to agree, but before she could speak, Legolas spluttered, "Mithrandir—it is near winter. The journey, even on the fastest horseback, shall take a fortnight! And Belutha is still weary. She cannot traverse such a great distance in such little time. They might freeze."

The reminder of poor Belutha stung Avalain's heart. The last thing she wanted to do was revoke the promise of six months' rest from her beloved horse.

Gandalf's gaze snapped to her, waiting for her to speak.

But Avalain, as much as she wanted to obey Gandalf's bidding, could only shake her head. "I cannot overwork my horse, Gandalf. You know how special she is to me."

"Let me take care of that," declared the wizard, a newfound determination in his gaze. The spark that ran through his eyes reminded Avalain of how truly powerful the wizard was… she knew that whatever he would do would be drastic. She could only trust it would benefit her steed. "Will you go to Gondor?"

Avalain looked between Gandalf and Legolas and Thranduíl. It was obvious the latter two wished for her to refuse the wizard's plead—but she knew that Gandalf spoke the truth, and that she could hardly risk the safety of Gondor's Men for her own desire to remain with her Mirkwood family. And so she closed her eyes and said, defeated, "Yes… I will go to Gondor."

"Avalain!" exclaimed Legolas, his blue eyes snapping to her face.

"I do not wish to go any more than you would like me to," interrupted Avalain, shooting her friend a glare. "But this is something I must do. If the fate of Middle-Earth is to be tested so soon, we must be ready."

Legolas was quiet, but he looked immensely sad. It was clear he wanted to say something; but right when Avalain believed that he would, her greatest friend only shook his head and looked to the ground.

Disheartened, Avalain turned back to Gandalf, who looked guilty. Despite what he was asking of her, however, the She-Elf did not feel any anger towards her all but blood father. With a helpless smile on her face, she asked, "What will you have me do in Gondor?"

Gandalf looked into Avalain's eyes. Avalain wished she could portray the determination and pride she normally felt when he entrusted her with something; but to be parted from Legolas and King Thranduíl so soon after her arrival prevented her from feeling any of that normal enthusiasm. In fact, she felt as if her limbs were stuck in molasses, and time itself had lost meaning.

Still, however, she wished to disguise her sadness.

He put a hand on her arm and smiled. "You do not have to go immediately," he murmured instead.

Avalain smiled wryly. Gandalf was certainly capable of looking through her mask. But she shook her head and commented, "No. The longer I wait, the more dangerous travel becomes for myself and Belutha. I shall have to leave tomorrow. Now please, Gandalf. What will you have me do?"

The wizard smiled sadly and answered, "I would have you use all your power and charm to convince the Steward to form an alliance with us. He must become our friend, as his country is that closest to Mordor. I suspect the Men there have already begun to repel the beasts from entering their borders. Do whatever you can."

Avalain nodded, her heart heavy, but her mind set. If Orcs were already advancing, the hours were growing darker than she had dreaded.

"I leave tomorrow," she announced.

There was a silence after this. Everyone spent it exchanging looks. Avalain looked upon the wizard and saw the urgency and guilt in his face. She attempted to smile at him to alleviate some of that guilt, but he did not look much comforted. Next she turned to Thranduíl. His silver eyes were all but unreadable—he looked rather mutinous, but sad as well.

Legolas was another story. Usually it was Thranduíl whom Avalain could not read. Usually it was Legolas she only had to look at to know exactly what he was feeling.

But not now. His expression was absolutely blank, as if he were asleep. There was no emotion on it whatsoever, and Avalain's lips parted slightly in shock. He had never been so stoic before.

That, however, was when he looked directly at her and shot her a look she recognized anywhere.

Noting that she understood what he wished to say, Legolas quickly excused himself from the conversation and stalked out of the room. Avalain knew that whatever Legolas wanted to talk about was serious, and therefore did not delay to follow him.

It took a minute or so to reach Legolas's room, as Gandalf and Thranduíl were still conversing in Avalain's. As soon as she entered and closed the door behind her, however, she heard him say, "This is not what we expected."

"No," she agreed softly, taking a step his direction. His back was to her, but from there, Avalain could see his fists were clenched.

She looked around the room. The bed was messy, as always. Dozens of arrows littered it. His quiver was lying upon the nightstand next to the large bed, and tokens from all his and Avalain's adventures were hung from the opposite wall. She recognized an acorn from the time they had climbed the tallest tree in Mirkwood, a dried lily pad from the instance they'd gotten stuck in the bog, a gold coin from Balin when they had travelled to Erebor.

"I… There was something I wished to ask you," Legolas murmured. He still wouldn't turn around.

Avalain cautiously walked forward, knowing that he would need whatever strength or comfort she could give him. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder and replied, "There is still time."

At long last, he turned to look at her. His blue eyes were dark with sadness and disappointment as he shook his head. "No, Avalain. I cannot ask it like this. There is, however, something else I would like to give you before you go."

"What is that?"

With a slight smile on his face, Legolas withdrew something from within his pocket. It was quite small, because when he enclosed it in a fist, Avalain could not see what it was.

He then outstretched his palm and opened it. Sitting in his hand was a lovely silver ring, at the heart of which sat a beautiful diamond. Avalain recognized the color and importance of that diamond.

"That…" she whispered, but she was unable to finish her sentence.

"I know," he responded, the tiniest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. His eyes filled with some pride and amusement upon noticing Avalain's bewilderment. But he waited for her to say what it was.

"A gem of Lasgalen… but your father!" exclaimed Avalain. She knew how important the White Gems of Lasgalen were to King Thranduíl—the necklace the gems were embedded in was the last true memory he had of his wife, Legolas's mother. He nearly went to war with the Dwarves of Erebor over those gems alone… she did not think he would part with one so lightly.

Hearing this, Legolas chuckled. "I was as surprised as you are. But when he discovered my plan to surprise you with a gift, he gave me his blessing to take one of the gems and make it into a token of your own. I will not deny I had some help transforming the gem into a ring, but… it is still not equal to what your friendship means to me."

Avalain's mouth dried. This was a gift beyond any value. She had no idea what to say. She could only stare, open-mouthed, at Legolas as he smiled helplessly at her, a specific adoration in his eyes.

Hearing her silence, he continued, "I would like for you to have it with you as you go on this journey. I do not know how long you shall be gone, or even if you shall return once it is over. But until I see you again… will you wear it?"

"Until the stars fade," Avalain answered, with the utmost sincerity and gratitude. Smiling, Legolas gently grabbed her hand and slipped the silver ring over her third finger on her left hand.

"Until the stars fade," he repeated, and he released her hand. Avalain stared at the ring for a moment, still awestruck by the importance of the gift. She wished she could repay him somehow.

Avalain opened her mouth to speak, but Legolas knew what she was going to say, and therefore interrupted her. "All I ask is that you promise to see me again as soon as you can, Avalain. I have missed you terribly these long years, and to have you ripped from me so soon after our reunion is a painful thought."

"Of course I promise you," she laughed sadly, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. A lump formed in her throat, making it immensely difficult to swallow or speak… but somehow, she managed to say, "I would promise you that even if the world was ending."

She felt his arms wrap around her, felt him kiss the top of her head. It pained her: yet another goodbye.

At last, however, the two parted. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Legolas said, "Well, let us not waste the rest of the day. What would you like to do today, Avalain?"

Avalain, however, did not feel up to exploring. She glanced at him and murmured, "I would like to remain here with you for as long as I can."

"Then it shall be done."

Legolas threw the arrows off his bed and had her sit down, and the two simply talked and napped and spent the rest of the day in each other's company like that.

The next morning, Gandalf had strengthened Belutha. Avalain said farewell to King Thranduíl, to Gandalf, and finally to Legolas, and then she saddled her horse and took off the way she had arrived only twelve short days beforehand.

* * *

A rather short chapter indeed, but soon after here is where things might begin to pick up... I hope everyone has been having a lovely March; thank you as always for reading and following this story! Feel free to leave thoughts, questions, or concerns in that little box below.

Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

Despite their best efforts, winter caught up to Avalain and Belutha before they reached the Mortal country of Gondor. The journey took approximately a month, and while they had been supplied enough cloaks and food for the trek, Avalain did not dare to start a fire, especially as she drew closer to Mordor.

Therefore, she was feeling somewhat ill as she and Belutha first laid eyes on the White City. The sight was astonishing… It was lightly snowing, making the scene picturesque. Long had she heard tales of Minas Tirith, but now that Avalain was seeing it with her own eyes, she was not quite sure the tales did the city justice.

Excited, Avalain murmured to Belutha, "Come on, mellon. This is the last stretch of travel."

Belutha snorted and rocketed forward, inspired by the prospect of a warm stall and hay bales just inside the city.

It took fifteen minutes for the two to trot to the highest level of the city… there were seven of them—Avalain had counted. She couldn't help but notice all the stares she received as she ascended, however. It did not appear that the Mortals were used to Elves.

Once she reached the large terrace of the uppermost level, Avalain dismounted her horse and gave her an encouraging pat on the back. Lowly, she said to her steed, "You are most amazing, Belutha. Your journeys are unparalleled."

Belutha snorted contentedly—just then, a guard walked up to the two.

"Miss?" he asked Avalain. "I must ask what your purpose in Minas Tirith is."

"I was sent here by Gandalf the Grey," she answered as smoothly as she could. Her head-cold made it difficult to sound as persuasive and charismatic as she might normally. "I was told you would be expecting me."

The guard narrowed his eyes, as if attempting to remember whether he had heard such news or not. As he thought, Avalain sneezed, though she tried to hide the gesture behind her hand. A cold breeze swept across the terrace, and she shivered lightly and took refuge behind Belutha, who was stamping nervously.

Seeing the suffering that Avalain was put under, the guard's willpower appeared to melt. With kindness, he said, "I will stable your horse. She will have as much hay and carrots to eat as she desires. You may go inside, if your tale is as you say."

Avalain smiled and replied, "Thank you." And with that, she said farewell to Belutha and stepped up to the large oak door of the palace.

Although she was intimidated by Gondor's grandeur and the majesty of the Tower of Ecthelion, somehow Avalain managed to recollect all her thoughts, and she entered the foyer of the Tower.

Immediately, however, her nerves returned. The door closed shut behind her with a large BANG, and following that was an eerie silence. Avalain looked around; the ceilings were so dizzyingly high, they almost deceived her into thinking they reached the heavens. Columns of white marble and intricate detail surrounded her—everything was so white, she almost felt blinded. The only contrast that was in the room was the pattern of white and black stone upon which she walked.

Again, Avalain was painfully aware that she was alone in this foreign place. She wished that her father or Legolas or Gandalf were with her.

Swallowing her fears, she looked ahead. At the end of the long foyer, she saw three people; one sat on a black throne, looking quite lordly. The second stood to the right of the throne, and the third stood to the left. It was quite obvious to Avalain that he who sat upon the throne was the Steward of Gondor: Denethor son of Ecthelion, the man whom Avalain was supposed to befriend and ally her people with.

When at last Avalain stood in front of the black throne, she glanced again at the three Men appraising her. The two on the opposite sides of the throne were obviously brothers… the one who looked to be the elder was smiling warmly. The kindness in his gaze calmed Avalain slightly. He wore armor of Gondor, his hands clasped ahead of him. At his belt was a sheathed broadsword, and a mahogany shield sat at his feet.

The younger brother was also smiling, although his smile was slightly more open. His eyes were a vibrant shade of green, and he too wore armor, although he did not bear any weapons.

The man on the throne—Denethor—was not smiling. His blue eyes bored into Avalain as she perused the scene.

Realizing that she was expected to speak, Avalain bowed her head and curtsied as well as she was able. When she rose, she said, "Hail to Lord Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. I hope my arrival is not a surprise."

"I'm afraid I must dash your hope," said the Steward. His voice was cold, although seeing Avalain's face, his gaze became less so. "Would you do us the favor of explaining who you are, where you come from, and why you are here."

This request was stated more as a demand than a question, and so Avalain knew it would be best to explain the truth as clearly and concisely as possible. "My name is Avalain Nightshade. I am a daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, but I have travelled from my second home in Mirkwood under the instruction of Gandalf the Grey."

"Gandalf!" exclaimed both the brothers standing to the sides of the throne. Avalain smiled at their excitement—the younger in particular seemed enthused—but the Steward only scoffed.

"The wizard," he muttered with discontent. "What errand has he sent for you to complete here?"

Avalain did not like the way the Steward spoke about Gandalf, with such clear disdain and disrespect. She longed to scold him for his misgivings, but the mission prevented her from doing so.

Knowing this, Avalain only pursed her lips before answering, "I have been sent to offer you an alliance between Men and Elves in the upcoming battle for Middle-Earth."

A split silence overcame the room, but almost immediately after her voice ceased to echo around the chamber, the older son exclaimed, "Father, this is everything we've dreamed of. We can overcome any number of Orcs if the power of Men and Elves combines!"

"Legends and myth," retorted the man's father, although not unkindly. Avalain sensed that there was true affection in the Steward for his son; some of her dislike for the man began to subside. "But perhaps a union between us could still be beneficial."

"Indeed it could," agreed Avalain. She coughed once or twice before gasping, "Excuse me. As I was saying, my Lord—"

"How long have you travelled to get to this place?" questioned the Steward.

Avalain blinked and looked down to the floor. "It took me a few days less than a month, my Lord."

"In this dread cold?" exclaimed the younger brother. His eyes appeared concerned, and he took a step forward as if he wished to say or do something.

The She-Elf nodded. "I left the Mirkwood on the third day of November."

Another silence filled the hall.

It was the older son who broke that disquiet. "Father, if she has spent so much time and suffered as such to offer us the Elvish hand of friendship, we cannot be so cruel and foolish as to send her away. She shall need proper food and rest while we prepare to ally ourselves with the Elves."

"I agree that she should remain here," replied the Steward. "I am less eager about this alliance proposal. Perhaps you care to give us more information about the engagement?"

Avalain swallowed. Gandalf had not necessarily given her any specifics… she knew that she could not promise perhaps everything that Denethor wanted to hear, but that was part of negotiation. She also had to be very careful not to overstep any boundaries that her father, King Thranduíl, or Lord Celeborn or Lady Galadriel would want her to overstep. Therefore, she answered, "My Lord, we offer an equal trade between Men and Elves. We would like to offer assistance in war if ever Gondor has a need for reinforcements, and in return, we would ask the same if our borders were to be sieged. We would also like your oath that you shall never ally yourself with that Dark Servant of Morgoth, and that you shall do everything that is in your power to repel him from Middle-Earth, just as we aspire to do."

For a moment, the Lord Denethor smirked at Avalain. There was no denying, however, the impressment in his gaze. "Pretty words," he admitted at last. "But I do not know if there is any underlying text in your proposal."

"We offer only equality," Avalain reassured him. "I would swear this to you."

"Would you?" he returned, raising an eyebrow. Avalain sensed that a bargain was about to be struck—but if she would be able to fulfill it was yet to be seen. "If that is the case, perhaps you shall prove your sincerity to me."

Avalain held her head high, determined to uphold the honor of her people. "What would you have me do, my Lord?"

"Remain here with us, in Gondor, until the end of summer. Send letters to your people and acquire signatures from all your cities that prove to me they all agree to the terms you have just listed. Then, once both of those things are completed, I will accept your alliance."

"Father, why not accept her alliance right away?" suggested the younger. "It seems to be sound in principle, and I trust that the Elves are an honorable people."

The Steward glared at the younger son… Avalain took a step back, and she was not even the one being glared at. Unlike the older son, the younger did not appear to hold the same influence on the Steward.

"I will not blindly accept like a fool!" spat the Steward. Avalain inhaled sharply at the sudden fierceness in his tone… yet strangely enough, his younger son did not even looked fazed. If any change of expression came over his face, it was not one of surprise, but sadness.

Her dislike of the Man greatened. She could clearly see the dynamics of the household, and where the Steward's love seemed to lie.

Being the youngest sibling herself, she could not say she appreciated it.

There was a brief silence, and an awkwardness filled the room. After such a harsh remark, Avalain was not quite sure what to say. She had been rather taken aback, and thus decided it would be best to wait for the Steward to speak first.

Seeing her intent, Denethor cleared his throat and returned his attention to the She-Elf. His eyes gleaming, he asked, "Will you accept these terms, then, Lady Nightshade? The signatures and your stay in exchange for acceptance to this alliance?"

Avalain did not quite see what else there was to do. She realized how much of an old fool this Steward was—she was offering nothing but good, and still he was skeptical of her and her people. But Gandalf had asked her to do whatever she could in order to forge this friendship, and so she was left with no choice except to say, "I would gladly accept, my Lord. It is a small price to pay for the strength of freedom in the future."

Denethor smirked, seemingly at ease. He leaned back into the black throne and waved his hands at his sons, exclaiming, "Excellent. Boromir, Faramir, show Lady Nightshade to where she shall be staying, if you would."

The two sons moved forward, each of them smiling and attempting to be welcoming. It was obvious they realized how cold their father had been in admitting Avalain to Gondor; she smiled hesitantly at them in return, hoping that they would not necessarily take after their father much.

Silently, the three left the hall. Avalain could feel the Steward's icy gaze following them until they were out of sight. As soon as she figured it was safe, she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding in.

Hearing it, the brothers both chuckled.

"Sorry about him," remarked the older, nodding toward the throne room. "Our father can be a bit…"

"Intimidating," finished the younger, grinning good-naturedly.

"And perhaps a bit stubborn."

The younger brother laughed at that. "You're one to talk about being stubborn, Boromir."

The older brother—Boromir—merely waved his hand dismissively, although he was grinning. Avalain could not help but laugh slightly herself… the laugh turned into a racking cough. She threw her hands up to her mouth to cover and stifle the sounds, but it did little to help her.

Boromir and Faramir gazed upon her with concern. When they saw how shaky she was growing, they exchanged quick glances.

It was Boromir who said, "Faramir, take her to her room. I'll grab some remedies for a headcold from the kitchens."

Even though she was pleasantly surprised by how comforting the brothers were, Avalain politely attempted to protest. Almost immediately, she was told by them both that it would be no trouble, and in fact it would be an honor to aid the She-Elf who would unite Men and Elves. And with that, Boromir said a quick farewell and turned a different direction towards the kitchens.

This left her and Faramir. The younger brother gestured her through the corridors towards the extensive hallway of guest rooms, most of which were empty during the winter, or so Faramir said. As he walked with her, he spoke quite a bit about Gondor. Avalain liked that, as her voice was thinning and her throat did not wish for her to speak a bit more. Besides, she liked hearing about Gondor.

When Boromir found the two again, Avalain was sitting on the bed she would be occupying for the next four to five months. Faramir stood in front of her, talking about Gondor, as she had requested.

Boromir, however, did not know this, and joked, "You're going to bore her to death, brother!"

"On the contrary, I find talk of your country fascinating," countered Avalain before Faramir could reply. "I even asked him to tell me how it was possible this city was carved into the mountain…"

Faramir turned to look at his brother with an expression that could only be described as smug.

Seeing this, Boromir smiled. "Then the two of you will get along splendidly. Faramir was always the better one in history and academics."

"Says the soldier of the country," laughed Faramir, but his only response was a smirk.

Avalain chuckled lightly at the bantering between the brothers. In a way, it reminded her of herself and Arwen whenever they had been younger. She glanced at Boromir and then realized that in his grasp was a glass of water and a bowl.

Boromir saw her confusion and smiled. "I know Elves are vegetarian," he began, "so I hope that a vegetable broth will help heal you. And you shall need to rest to regain your strength from the long journey."

The gesture was unexpected, yet very sweet. Avalain could not help her smile from growing. She had not thought to find any kindness in this place during her less-than-friendly debate with the Steward, but Faramir and Boromir were proving her wrong.

"Thank you, both of you," she murmured, her amber eyes filled with gratitude. "You have been very welcoming, and I hope to become a friend of yours during my stay here."

She was met with confirmations and well-wishes for her health; soon after, they left her to take rest. It was only after Avalain finished writing a letter to Legolas to inform him that she had made it to Gondor safely that she reclined in her bed and, for the first time in five weeks, slept soundly.

* * *

Good morning/afternoon, readers! I hope you all have been having wonderful lives since last I updated; and I hope this chapter might've made them just a bit brighter! As always, thank you for reading thus far, and if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or constructive criticisms, feel free to leave them in the box below! Until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days were spent with Avalain recuperating from her illness. She was hardly able to leave her room, much to her dismay. She very much wished to explore the city and all its wonders. Luckily, throughout that time, Boromir and Faramir were constantly beside her, helping her to laugh and speaking to her about whatever came to their minds that day.

On the fifth day of Avalain's stay, she finally felt well enough to leave the Tower of Ecthelion. Seeing that she had regained much of her color and strength, the brothers agreed to accompany her on a walk throughout Minas Tirith.

When the trio stood on the terrace of the topmost balcony, however, Avalain froze. She cautiously tiptoed forward, daring to lay her eyes on the spectacle of fire and ash that was rising over the mountains that marked the borders of Mordor.

A feeling of dread consumed her. Even as she stood, motionless, columns of fire leaped up from behind the dark silhouettes of the mountains. A storm was raging beyond the borders. This sight, more than anything, convinced her that everything Gandalf had spoken to her about was true.

Boromir seemed to notice her unrest. Quietly, he mused, "Alarming, isn't it? Orcs are already marching upon our borders."

"Truly?" gasped Avalain. She had not wanted to believe that Gandalf had been right… even if the proof of his sincerity was obvious.

"Indeed. We have Men defending the garrisons and river at Osgiliath as we speak," remarked Faramir softly. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, as if the sight of the Dark Lord's rage was only mildly offsetting.

Avalain sighed, not sure what to say. Was she to offer reassurance, or promises of help from the Elves? She knew if she were to do the latter, it would be risky. She had sent the letters, but not acquired the consent of the Elven lords yet.

"Do not worry about it," said Boromir, smiling somewhat at Avalain. She blinked and turned away from Mordor as he added, "It is a darkness that we do not need to fear wholeheartedly. After all, if our alliance is to be, the power of Men and Elves combined will be enough to repel the enemy."

Avalain smiled, but could not bring herself to agree. The lore that Gandalf had taught her would suggest differently… this would be a great war; a kind that Middle-earth had not seen in thousands of years. She already knew that Boromir's wishful thinking would be exactly that.

But she could not bring herself to say it. It was a dark thought, and times were still light, even if they would not remain so for long.

After a moment, she heard herself say, "Yes… it is always good to put aside worry for a day and simply let things pass."

It was Faramir who chuckled and spoke next. "Well said! Now let us fulfill your declaration and show you around Minas Tirith. I'm sure you're quite ready to be free of the Tower for an afternoon."

They did not delay any longer. The three proceeded down to the sixth level, where the armories and nobility tended to congregate. Boromir and Faramir pointed out interesting places, such as the forge and the nobles' mansion. As they continued on, they progressed to lower levels. Even though the people grew poorer the further to the ground the levels descended, Avalain was no less charmed by the bakeries and the herbalists and the farmers. If anything, she found the lower levels more fascinating than the others save the Tower of Ecthelion.

Everywhere they travelled, Avalain met people. The denizens of Minas Tirith appeared curious about her presence… it was clear that Elves had not visited the White City in quite a while. Whilst a few of them merely poked forward to get a glance at her, a number of men, women, and children introduced themselves. By the end of the afternoon, the She-Elf was quite overwhelmed by the number of names she had acquired throughout the tour.

Boromir and Faramir laughed as they escorted her back to the seventh level of the city. They had been able to tell that while Avalain had been enchanted by the number of people at first, she had grown rather exhausted closer to the end of them. They only laughed all the harder when she purchased a remedy for headaches from one of the apothecaries.

At last, however, they returned to the topmost level. Once again, Avalain found her gaze straying to the mountains of Mordor. An ominous gloom settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Here, Avalain," murmured Faramir, gently turning her away from the dark country. "Let today be carefree. Brooding on darkness will only stain your mind with black thoughts."

She nodded, knowing that Faramir was correct. But it was too late—she wondered about the letters pleading with her father Elrond, Thranduíl, and her grandfather Lord Celeborn. She dearly hoped they would accept the terms she had established in the alliance that was proposed to the Steward of Gondor…

Still, she allowed the brothers to escort her back inside the Tower. Once there, she looked at them both and said, "Thank you for giving me a most memorable tour of your city. It really is beautiful."

"It was our pleasure!" exclaimed Boromir with a grin. "I could not think of a better way to spend our fortnight off-duty."

"Off-duty?" questioned Avalain. She remembered that Faramir and Boromir were the sons of the Steward, and both were renowned soldiers… she almost smacked herself for being so blind.

Before either of them could respond, she whispered, "You're helping defend the garrisons at Osgiliath."

They both nodded, their smiles diminishing somewhat. A dark gloom settled over Avalain's mind. Though she had only known them for a week, she still felt close to them, as they had helped heal her when she was sick and proven to be caring friends.

"Every couple of months or so, we are allowed a fortnight off-duty from commanding our forces in Osgiliath," murmured Faramir, his green eyes darkening. "You happened to arrive the third day of that fortnight. But trust me when I say, Avalain, that we would not choose to spend these days off any other way. You've become a good friend."

Avalain tried to smile, but she could not. She worried greatly about when they would return to their posts; would they come back in the next couple months to visit her again?

She didn't know what she would do without her two newest friends around the Tower of Ecthelion. Within the past week, she had only seen the Steward upon his throne in the foyer, and he never said anything more than hello. He did not seem to care how she was adjusting to his country, or even about whether she sent the letters or not.

He was strangely apathetic about the ordeal, and Avalain did not like it.

Therefore, the thought of remaining alone in the Tower with him was less than pleasant.

A thought entered her mind then. What if she were to accompany Boromir and Faramir to Osgiliath when they were to return? It would certainly be a sign of goodwill, not only to her friends but to the Steward as well. And it would allow her to display all the skills she and her people had to offer.

"You have that look on your face," jested Boromir, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His brown eyes were locked on Avalain's expression; she laughed hearing his comment, knowing that she could not keep her thoughts away from her new friends.

"I was thinking," she replied vaguely.

"About what?" questioned Faramir.

"About when you return to Osgiliath, if I could perhaps join you."

Both the brothers jolted with surprise. It was obvious they had not been expecting **_that._**

It was Boromir who was the first to speak. "Why would you wish to do that, Avalain? It is dangerous… it is war. Have you ever even seen a battle before?"

Avalain turned and looked him square in the eye before replying, "I have. I have fought Bolg, the son of Azog, and forced him to flee. I have fought in the battle for the Mountain of Erebor, for a love that I lost to death. I have heard the screams of wounded elves, dwarves, and men, and heard the pleads of mercy from those on the brink of death. Red and black have filled my eyes and I have nearly drowned in the smell of metal. I have watched my arrows pierce the skulls and skins of my enemies and witnessed their collapse, their innards staining the ground. I may be a daughter of Elrond and a Lady of Rivendell, but I am also a warrior, and I will have that known."

The brothers merely blinked at this, but after a moment of absorbing this new information, they exchanged glances before shrugging. It was Faramir who slowly said, "Then… it sounds as if you could do us some good, Avalain."

Avalain smirked. "I do not intend to do you **_some_** good, Faramir. I intend to do you very much of it."

Boromir laughed at this and nodded thoughtfully. "It appears we are being shown a glimpse of your other personality, Avalain. I, for one, can honestly say I like it."

"I should hope so, seeing as I am offering you aid," she retorted, still smirking. She could not deny she was rather happy to have received Boromir's liking and respect. She hoped that Faramir thought the same as well… the brothers' opinions had come to mean a lot to her.

After a moment, Faramir grinned and shook his head. "Very well, then," he declared, shrugging. "It appears as if we shall have a new recruit in Osgiliath within the next few days."

This announcement made Avalain quite happy. She wasn't sure what she would've done had she been left to fend for herself with only that dreadful Steward for company; and so, she excitedly relayed her thanks to the two, receiving laughter in return.

* * *

The following week passed swiftly; much quicker than Avalain had anticipated. Those days were spent with the three of them continually exploring the city, particularly the brothers' favorite places to hide in or overlook the city from. Avalain was honored to be trusted with their secrets… she longed to be able to return the favor. Because of that, she promised that if the two were ever to visit Rivendell, she would give them a tour of the same caliber.

When the day came to leave Minas Tirith, however, Avalain was even more excited than during the tours. She longed to be a part of something great, to be useful to the Men she had come to ally her people with. She **_also_** longed to be free from the cold glare of the Steward every blasted time she crossed the foyer with one or both of his sons.

The three of them met in Avalain's room, as the brothers had declared they had something to give her. When they arrived, she was astonished to see a beautiful silver breastplate with the insignia of the Tree of Gondor fashioned upon it. It was made in such a way that signified it was clearly for her.

"Oh, Boromir… Faramir…" was all she could say. Her hands flew to her face, sure that her cheeks were pink.

Elven forges were elegant, certainly, but the smiths of Men were another caliber entirely.

They both grinned at the reception. It was Boromir who said, "We figured that if you were to engage in battle… well, we cannot have our lovely new recruit going in unequipped, can we?"

Avalain couldn't help but laugh. Underneath her hands, she felt her cheeks flush to red—she glanced at the floor in an attempt to hide her face, but of course the two of them noticed anyway. They all ended up laughing for a moment before Faramir held out something else.

"This is also for you," he declared. "You have a bow unparalleled to any other in this country, but perhaps you needed a few more of these."

The gift was a package of arrows, held together by a silver ribbon. They were of beautiful make—Mortal fletchers too were incredibly skilled.

"I do not know what to say… to either of you," she whispered, her hands slightly shaking as she accepted the gifts. "You two have been kinder than I could ever have dreamed. Thank you."

"Anytime, Avalain," grinned Boromir. Gesturing to the small knapsack upon Avalain's bed, he then asked, "Is everything set, then?"

She nodded eagerly. "It is."

Faramir grinned too. It was eerie, how alike the two of them looked whenever they smiled like that. "Then let us leave," he exclaimed. "I must warn you, though, Avalain—we have informed our men that there shall be a new Elven recruit with us, but… we may have failed to mention…"

He trailed off, but Boromir immediately piped up. "We may have failed to mention that you are a female, and a rather beautiful one at that."

Avalain's face, which had lost its embarrassing redness, regained it quickly. "Well… hopefully that won't be ill received," she laughed nervously.

But for the first time, the concern registered with her. How **_would_** the Men react to her presence? Would she even be welcomed?

Faramir seemed to sense her unease, and therefore reassured, "Worry not, my friend. They shall accept you with open arms. You are, after all, offering us nothing but goodwill."

This indeed made her feel better, and without any further delay, they set out. They passed through the foyer—Boromir and Faramir both said farewell to their father, and Avalain waved as well—and then walked to the stables, where two of Gondor's horses and Belutha were all awaiting.

Seeing Avalain approach, Belutha whinnied excitedly. The She-Elf could not help but laugh loudly as the horse stamped the floor of her stall, clearly ready for another ride, even though it had been only two weeks since last she had traversed great distances.

Boromir noticed this as well, and he laughed good-naturedly as he stated rather than asked, "Your horse is quite spirited, then."

"Indeed," agreed Avalain, petting the creature on her silvery neck. "Her soul is wild… it is something we share, deep at heart. She is one of my greatest friends."

Belutha snorted in appreciation.

"She grows restless," mused Avalain amusedly. "Let us set off."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," grinned Boromir, already seated upon his horse. "It's an afternoon's ride to Osgiliath, and we have little time to waste, don't we?"

Faramir snorted, earning a laugh from Avalain. The She-Elf knew that the younger of the brothers was a bit less eager to return to commanding, if only because he favored his studies compared to fighting.

As it was, the three of them swiftly set off, ready to reach the all but ruined city that was the last remaining garrison of Gondor.

* * *

Hello, my dear readers! _**I return.** *cue thunder and lightning*_ Sorry I've been gone so long! I've been trotting across Germany and Austria the last month or so, and it was all very wonderful! I didn't want to take my laptop or anything though because then I'd be more tempted to hole up inside my hotel room and not go sight-seeing and all that jazz. Hopefully you will forgive me with the release of this fifth chapter!

As always, thank you for keeping up with my story. I hope everyone's been doing well; and per regulations, feel free to leave your questions, comments, concerns, and constructive criticisms in that little white rectangle just below this message! I do so love to hear your thoughts!

Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

True to Boromir's word, the ride to Osgiliath took only a couple hours out of the day, and it had been a pleasant one at that. Despite the rough-looking terrain, the ride was fairly smooth and uneventful, which surprised Avalain.

It was the arrival to the city that began all the chaos. Upon noticing their leaders returning, the Men who were all stationed there began to cheer. Some of them held flags of Gondor, its white tree waving ceaselessly, while others raised their swords in the air as if in salute. But it was the shouts that were deafening, and that overwhelmed Avalain beyond all comprehension.

Eventually, the three reached the heart of the city. Boromir and Faramir quickly dismounted and began to say hello to a few of their closer friends. Meanwhile, Avalain softly touched the ground and tried to stay in the shadows, hidden by her horse.

Boromir, however, made that difficult when he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her into the clearing the Men had made.

"This is the warrior we spoke to you about!" he announced, a large grin on his face. Avalain wished she could mirror it, but honestly, she was too nervous. "She is an Elf of Rivendell, here to demonstrate the goodwill of her people! I expect everyone to welcome her just as warmly as you have welcomed my brother and I."

Despite Boromir's and Faramir's words earlier, Avalain was still nervous and expected there to be some resistance to this request.

Much to her surprise, after the briefest of silences, a roar as earthshattering as the last erupted from the Men. Many swarmed forward to greet her, making Avalain blink and stare in shock.

Faramir noticed her state and began to laugh, gently placing one hand on her shoulder and the other in the air to ask for quiet. Once it was given, he declared, "My friends, as Boromir requested something of you, so now I shall. Do not overwhelm our poor Avalain. She'll meet everyone in her own time."

Avalain exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath until that moment. She turned to Faramir and smiled gratefully. She wasn't quite sure what she would've done had she been surrounded by unfamiliar Men in an unfamiliar place such as Osgiliath.

As it was, a few of who appeared to be some of Boromir's and Faramir's closest friends approached her anyway. Although they were only three, Avalain still felt her stomach churn.

"Avalain, this is Gryffin, Dalgrad, and Malum," introduced Boromir, a large smile on his face. Despite his joy, he seemed to recognize Avalain's nervousness, and he quickly added, "They are some of the nicest Men here, and I'm sure they shall be very welcoming."

The She-Elf was grateful for her friend's support; she knew that it would be wise to attempt to formulate friendships as soon as possible. With this in mind, she smiled at the three and asked, "How do you do?"

"Well, now that our Captains are returned!" exclaimed Gryffin, a wild grin upon his face. "And you, my Lady, are a welcome addition, if I may say so."

The other two nodded enthusiastically, coaxing a smile to Avalain's lips. She thus replied, "I hope I can continue to be so. My purpose here after all, is to aid you as greatly as possible."

"An honorable intention," remarked Malum, his dark eyes full of a deep-set wisdom that reminded the She-Elf of her own people. "Faith and hope is being associated with your arrival already. I can feel it."

Avalain blinked, surprised yet comforted by this Man. She peered at him closely and noticed the sincerity with which he spoke, and she grinned, quickly deciding that she quite liked this particular Man. "I greatly appreciate your words, Malum."

The Man smiled, but said no more. This left Avalain to turn to the Man named Dalgrad. "And how are you, sir?"

He grinned cheekily and shot her a wink. "Doin' alrigh', now that we've got our friends back! Hopefully with them, those Orcs won' stand a chance tomorrow!"

"Orcs?!" repeated Boromir and Faramir, instantly losing all carefree attitude. Their eyes, though different colors, reverted to the same concern, the same worry.

It was Boromir who repeated, "Orcs, Dalgrad? What Orcs?"

The three Men whom Avalain had just met exchanged looks before reluctantly sighing, "A pack of Orcs was spotted off the eastern rampart not four days past. We thought about summoning you, but as they've made no move to attack, we've let them be for now."

"And what do your scouts say?" inquired Faramir, his voice quite calm.

"Well, now they've changed their tune," replied Gryffin. "It appears the Orcs are preparing for battle. The only question that remains is when they will strike. We think in the wee hours tonight or tomorrow morning, based on the scouts' reports."

Boromir sighed and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. He glanced worriedly at his brother and Avalain for a moment before muttering, "Men, you are like my brothers, but you are utter fools. If we'd known about this threat sooner, we would have had more time to plan and distribute weapons."

Malum chuckled at this. "Well now, **_brother_** _,_ we're not complete fools. Men are stationed at their traditional battle points, equipped with armor and weapons sufficient enough to fend off a surprise attack."

"Then at least we will have some warning," remarked Faramir, looking significantly at his older brother. As Avalain watched the two, they seemed to have a conversation without words that only they could follow. Once or twice, she noted that Boromir's or Faramir's eyes would flicker to **_her_** _,_ though what they insinuated was still a mystery.

At last, however, they spoke aloud. "Then we must gather our Lieutenants. Tell them to meet us in the main hall immediately."

With this, the two turned as if to leave—but they stopped when Avalain asked, "What would you have me do?"

Boromir smiled, a gleam in his eye. "How well can you formulate strategy?"

Avalain chuckled. "Relatively well, though perhaps not as eloquently as seasoned Captains."

Faramir laughed outright at that and exclaimed, "That'll be good enough. Come with us, friend."

The She-Elf wasted no time in arguing. Admittedly excited, she said farewell to her new acquaintances and moved to follow the Captains of Gondor.

Within the next thirty minutes, approximately ten Men and the Elf of Rivendell were congregated within the most structurally sound building of Osgiliath. They were surrounded by grey stone, towering high and proud, in shapes of statues and columns.

Boromir and Faramir were at the center of the circle table, the only piece of furniture within the room. They stood together, peering over maps, and occasionally pointing at them to ask where the Men should be stationed.

Naturally, arguments were popping up to most of their Captain's suggestions. As they shouted, Avalain peered closely at some of the more vehement Men… she was not surprised at all to locate fear within the depths of their eyes, hidden behind a forced resolve and false bravado.

For twenty minutes she stood quiet, observing, comparing each proposed strategy with the next and determining which one she should ultimately sponsor. But even the best of these strategies, surfaced by Faramir, had something wrong with it.

He wished for the Orcs to charge the eastern walls, and have Men stationed there. If they had to retreat, traps would be set off over the bridge that would injure and incapacitate as many Orcs as possible before battle would resume. And although that plan was solid in foundation, there was always the risk that traps would be scarce, or have no effect, or that the Men would in fact be the ones to set off those traps as opposed to the Orcs.

Avalain knew what they were missing—an integral piece of any battle's puzzle.

She listened in again, to a Lieutenant named Uthrain who was speaking belligerently.

"We cannot afford for our traps to be wasted now! What if another attack comes soon?"

At this point, Avalain was ready to pitch an idea. And so, before any other Man could argue, she spoke up for the first time in that half an hour to say, "There is a possibility another battle shall ensue before you have time to replenish your traps, Lieutenant, that is true. But would you be willing to spare your traps at the expense of your comrades' blood?"

A silence filled the main hall, as Avalain looked around them all beadily. Now that she had their attention, she figured it was only appropriate to continue. "That, of course, is a decision to be made by the Captains of this city. It is also their decision on whether to allow me to suggest a strategy for the upcoming battle."

She turned towards her friends, both of whom were gazing at her with a glint of pride. Boromir instantly nodded and exclaimed, "By all means."

Avalain couldn't help but smile at him warmly. "Thank you. I've heard many admirable ideas throughout this meeting, yet what I have failed to hear suggested was for our Men to lure these barbarians into a battle on two-fronts."

Faramir sighed and slapped his hand to his forehead, making the She-Elf laugh. Then she continued.

"My suggestion here is a little like Faramir's. I would recommend pulling all your Men to the westernmost part of the city, and allow the Orcs to lay siege to the east. Let them cross the bridges, where your traps shall be stationed. It will be the first line of defense, eliminating Orcs without costing us Men. Archers shall be stationed on the buildings closest to the bridge, but they shall not attack yet. Let the Orcs charge to the Men on foot. Let them engage in combat. Then, when the Orcs are past the archers, surprise them with arrows to their back. The archers shall be safe atop the buildings, allowing for the flanked assault to continue. If this is enacted well, there shall not be a great struggle, and there shall also be minimal casualties."

Once Avalain ceased speaking, another silence reigned over the hall. She glanced across the faces of the Men—most, she was relieved to see, were nodding slightly, going over the plan in their own minds.

But Lieutenant Uthrain soon exclaimed, "But the eastern rampart! Would you have the Orcs ultimately destroy that? You cannot possibly know what culture and meaning this city holds for us!"

"You are right with that last. I do **_not_** know what this city means to you. But I **_do_** know what the lives of your friends mean to you. That being said, Lieutenant, I would be quicker to save the lives of my kinsman than the remains of an old, destroyed garrison. Would you not?"

The Lieutenant blustered for a moment, his face turning the shade of puce. It was most unbecoming of him, seeing as he was young, and would be charming with a smile on his face instead of a frown. "What if the Orcs see the archers? They could charge up the buildings and slaughter them before engaging our foot soldiers in combat."

"I doubt that shall happen, Lieutenant, and let me tell you why. I could not help but notice that Osgiliath has seen better days…"

Boromir and Faramir both laughed with this; Avalain shot them a gratified smile as she persisted, "And I also noticed much loose rock spread about the streets. Use this rock to barricade the doors leading up to the archers. If this is done, the only threat to our archers would be the archers of the Orcs. And those should be the first targets of our Men, if possible."

"And what if stray Orcs slip past us?" asked another Man, one whose name Avalain had not yet caught. "They could head for Minas Tirith!"

At this, Avalain outright laughed. "Perhaps one or two stray Orcs could meander to the White City. But, sir, have you no faith in the doors of your city? I have never before seen a larger gate, nor one so well guarded or impenetrable. One piddly little arrow could take care of the stragglers, if not from us, then from your city guards."

Luckily, **_this_** Man was sensible enough to see her point and relent.

The She-Elf again glanced around those gathered in the main hall before concluding, "I know this strategy might cost you parts of your city or your traps. But in battle, I find my first priorities to be my kin, and the people I love. I only want to help you save them. Because believe me, Men… I know what it is like… to have lost the p-person you love—"

She stopped and swallowed and touched the golden circlet that, as always, sat proudly atop her head. She remembered Fili, the Dwarf whom she had loved, and recalled how he had fought bravely, strongly, and honorably even until his last.

Her fingers reached the ruby pendant of the circlet, and then she remembered Kili, Fili's brother, and Thorin Oakenshield. Others who had died that fateful day without deserving to.

Avalain did not realize she had paused so long until Boromir walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him briefly, smiled, blinked the tears out of her eyes, and resumed.

"You have Men stationed here that have wives, sisters, mothers, and children waiting for them to return home. Do not do them the dishonor of prioritizing them lower than history or supplies. These are your brothers, your kin, and you love each other as such. This is the way to save as many of them as possible. This is the way to r-return them to the p-people who are waiting for them back **_home_**."

She did not have the will nor the strength to continue speaking. And so Avalain fell silent. She lowered her eyes to the ground, partially in exhaustion, partially in despair.

Nearly sixty years had passed since the Battle of the Five Armies, and Avalain had lived on. Yet despite all that time, she still loved Fili. Perhaps her affection did not run as deeply as it did back then, but still it lived.

The fact that she still wore the circlet meant for his betrothed was proof of that.

A quiet voice then filled the previously silent hall—it was Faramir's.

"All in favor of Avalain Nightshade's strategy."

A chorus of soft "aye's" filled the room, but it was quiet—subdued. As if Avalain's pain had occupied the room in its entirety, and now everyone could feel it; the cost of losing loved ones.

But then, as Boromir and Faramir approached her and as the others began trailing out of the main hall, she realized something.

Before the meeting, the Men had thought that battle meant glory and honor and victory. That war was simply part of life, and their part in it would be scribed in history books, for future generations to study with awe.

Their softness now was their discovering that they had been wrong.

Battle was not glorious.

It was sad.

* * *

Hello dear readers! Thank you for getting to the end of this chapter to this here author's note and whatnot. I hope everyone has had a lovely summer so far; I'm certainly wishing you all the best! As usual, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, etc., please leave them in that there white box below! I am always more than happy to read what you write for me as well.

Thank you again; until next time!

~Avalain Nightshade


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the day passed with the Men frantically attempting to prepare for the impending assault.

Men were sent out in teams to gather rocks to close off the doors to the buildings that the archers were positioned on. Others were speedily manufacturing more traps—Avalain advised them to make flares so that when the Orcs set them off, the Men would know when to be ready to fight.

Overall, it was a hectic first day at Osgiliath. Avalain did not realize how exhausted she was until she took a brief respite and sat on a loose chunk of stone to the side of the street. The sun was beginning to go down, and fires were started as the Men who were done with their chores began settling down for the night.

Avalain thought it wise to join them and continue forging friendships, but before she could rise, Boromir approached. With a small smile, he pointed to the rock next to her and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Smiling, she shook her head. He then sat down.

All was silent for a minute. But then, he said the words that Avalain knew were coming.

"Are you alright?"

She exhaled and replied, "I will be."

Boromir noticed the ghosts in her eyes and stated, "You lost the man you loved to battle, didn't you."

He said it in more of a statement than a question, which compelled Avalain to respond truthfully. "Yes. I did. Sixty years ago, the Lonely Mountain was occupied by a fearsome dragon named Smaug. A company of Dwarves travelled through my city, determined to reclaim their homeland. After a series of chaotic events, I ended up joining them for a time. And one of them… did capture my heart."

Boromir looked bemused. "A Dwarf?"

Avalain nodded raggedly and confirmed, "A Dwarf. A noble and goodhearted one, mind you. He was… nothing I'd expected. I had assumed the Dwarves would hate us, but he—Fili—he was different."

She paused for a moment, refusing to look at her friend. She felt his brown eyes locked on her face, assessing her expression, attempting to discover how she felt or how he might respond to her sorrow.

Desperate to fill the silence that had emerged, Avalain continued talking. "When at last we reached the Lonely Mountain, a great battle ensued for its possession. Two armies of Orcs fought a band of Men, an army of Elves, and an army of Dwarves. The leader of the Orcs was named Azog the Defiler, and was the sworn enemy of Fili and his family. And it was Azog… who killed him.

"I was not there when it happened. Sometimes, I wonder what might have happened if I had not let him go. Or if I had gone with him, to cut the head off of that wretched snake. Or if I had taken the final blow for him."

"Avalain," said Boromir sharply. It was so sudden, the She-Elf blinked and, despite her resolve not to, looked at him. His face, which had been full of concern and sadness before, was now full of a mild anger. "Do not dwell on those thoughts. They will only torment you."

"I know," she sighed. "But still they come, despite my attempts to keep them away."

Boromir sighed at the look in her eyes. She knew he saw sixty years of grief and rage and fading yet always present love there. And then he murmured, "The past is painful, I will not deny it. But leave it there. Do not let it consume you anymore than it already has. Think about what you have found, not what you have lost… for instance, where would we, this unorganized group of Gondor Men, be without you?"

This made her chuckle slightly. "Still in that main hall, based on how stubborn that Lieutenant Uthrain was."

Now it was he who laughed. He stood then and offered Avalain a hand. Gratefully, she took it, allowing herself a small smile.

"Come, let us go to the others," said Boromir, a hopeful grin upon his face. "I'm sure there are many who still desire to make your acquaintance."

At this, Avalain's stomach dropped, and she groaned. "Don't remind me."

Boromir laughed again and led her towards the fire where the most Men seemed to be gathered. Many of them had carried chunks of stone or rock to sit upon as they all murmured to one another or sat, polishing their knives or swords, or simply looking off into the distance.

By this time, it was dark. The firelight cast ominous shadows across the faces of the Men. As Avalain looked among them, she saw one shadow, darker than the rest, cascading over the congregation.

Fear.

She knew that she would have to do something. This would not do; Osgiliath was the last line of defense before Minas Tirith, and the Men here were a great number of Gondor's army.

If they were to succeed now and in the future, fear must be eradicated.

Avalain sat next to Faramir, who was gesturing her over with a grin. Once she arrived, he said to his friends, "And here is Avalain Nightshade, who's been a great joy and friend to my brother and I these past two weeks. How are you feeling, Avalain?"

She knew that this was the same question that Boromir had asked not ten minutes ago. This time, however, she did not wish to relive the past. And so Avalain's reply was, "Well, thank you. I feel well."

Faramir smiled, gladdened by the response. He was silent for a moment, allowing Avalain time to inspect who surrounded her. It was Gryffin and Dalgrad. Malum was off to the side, inspecting his bow. Others were sitting, spitting into the rocks, their gazes blank as they stared into the fire or aimlessly chatted with the Man next to them. Lieutenant Uthrain was glaring at her from far away—Avalain narrowed her eyes in return and was satisfied to see her glare was intimidating enough for him to look away.

"I'd like to get you know you two better."

The words were out of Avalain's mouth before she really realized what she was saying. But as soon as they escaped, the She-Elf realized that this would be the way to encourage at least these two Men… Gryffin and Dalgrad raised an eyebrow, and it was the former who asked, "Oh? How would you do that?"

"Tell me about how you became a soldier," she requested.

Gryffin laughed. "Aye, that I could do."

And he proceeded with the tale; apparently, it all began off of a dare. The story was full of ridiculous bets and dangerous dares, and almost all of it was amusing. Avalain found herself laughing at the Man's multiple misfortunes, though he himself seemed rather smug as he relayed his experiences.

Before much longer had passed, she realized that many others had begun listening in to Gryffin's tall tales. She allowed him to continue with one last story, one about how he'd lost a bet and had to run stark naked with only a flour sack covering him, around the courtyard of the Tower. This story made many erupt into guffaws; it seemed that, for a time, all the Men listening had quite forgotten about the Orcs looming on Osgiliath's doorstep.

Once the tale was complete, Avalain clapped joyously and exclaimed, "A wonderful set of stories, Gryffin. You have my thanks."

"Ah, it's nothing! I'm glad my foolishness could amuse a pretty lady like yourself. Perhaps there's hope for me yet," he jested, raising an eyebrow in a flirtatious fashion.

Avalain simply rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to smack Faramir's arm upon noticing that he was smirking her direction. As it was, she contented herself with a halfhearted glare.

"Is there another question you have for me?" teased Gryffin, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement.

The She-Elf, however, answered, "Actually, there is, though I must admit this one is not nearly as frivolous. What is it that you fear?"

Gryffin chuckled. "Delving straight into the deep stuff, are we? My, my. But to answer your question, Avalain, I fear the unexpected. I fear death."

Avalain smiled. This was exactly what she had expected. She knew many others feared the same; this was her chance to raise their spirits. Nodding, she replied, "To fear the unexpected is wise indeed. But Gryffin, is death unexpected? We are living beings after all, you and I. Death is inevitable."

"It is, you are right. But what does death entail? What happens to our minds, our consciences?"

Avalain's smile became larger as she returned, "It finds peace. Death is the end, Gryffin, and not just for our bodies and lives. It is rest. Rest for our minds and souls; a reward for all we endured in life. In death, in rest… we find peace."

A thoughtful silence took over the campsite, as the dozens of Men, Gryffin, Boromir, and Faramir all heard and registered her words. Their eyes grew thoughtful and accepting, as if this peace was something they could fight for.

The She-Elf waited for a moment to allow them to digest these thoughts. Soon, however, she then added, "I have another question for you, Gryffin. When you were young, what did you wish to make of yourself when you grew older?"

Without any pause, the Man chuckled, "I wished to be a blacksmith."

"A worthy goal," laughed Avalain as well. "And yet here you stand, a soldier. Tell me—did you ever see that coming?"

Gryffin smiled sheepishly and shook his head.

"Well, then," remarked she. "Life must've caught you quite off-guard."

Now he laughed. "Aye, that it did."

Many of the Men laughed with him, nodding as if to agree. Some of their eyes were glazed over, as if reminiscing on their pasts, and who they might've become if their plans as children had been followed.

"And here you stand nevertheless, proud of who you've become, as you should be. And do you know why you are here, my friend? Why any and all of you are here?"

She was met with blank stares and a few blinks.

Avalain couldn't help but giggle at their confusion. "We are all here because our lives, individual yet entwined, threw the unexpected towards us. I was never supposed to know how to fight, but I chose to learn. Faramir was not assigned all the studies he is well-versed in, but he picked them up anyway. And Gryffin, you never expected to be a soldier. And I'm sure none of us expected that tomorrow, we shall be battling Orcs for control of a destroyed city."

Murmurs began to spread, uneasy and anxious at this last. But Avalain, knowing what she had to do and say, merely raised her voice and continued.

"And **_this,_** my friends, is why it is wise to fear the unexpected! The question facing us now is—how do we handle our fear? Will we be meek in the upcoming battle, cowering in the corners like mice as Orcs strike us down? Do we give way to our fear? We should not. But will we?"

With this last, Avalain stood up and gazed across the hushed crowd. Even as she had been speaking, more Men had gathered until there seemed to be an unending sea of them. Everywhere she looked, she saw eyes of all different shapes and colors staring back at her. The light of the fire glimmered off their pale and dark faces, making them seem nearly haunted. She felt the intensity of their gazes and sensed their anticipation… she waited another moment before resuming, as softly as possible yet just loud enough to be heard.

"What I see here in front of me are strong, enduring Men of Gondor. Brave Men. Determined Men. Men who hold promise to not only win tomorrow's battle, but shall continue to do so in days to come! Men who will fight honorably and deserve the rest that may await us!"

As she spoke, Avalain raised her voice so that she ended up shouting. One by one, her new friends also began to stand until at last they stood tall and proud and strong like the armies of Gondor of old.

"You are soldiers of Gondor!" she shouted over the roars that were beginning to spread. "You have overcome all that life has thrown at you, and you shall do so once more! Gentlemen! Sharpen your swords. Count your arrows. Place your traps, and be ready! Tomorrow, you shall be stronger than you stand today."

A roar of approval met Avalain's ears, and she couldn't help but grin. She hadn't quite expected such an enthusiastic reaction.

At that moment, she felt someone put a hand on her shoulder. Avalain jolted and turned around to see that it was Boromir, who was grinning from ear to ear, his brown eyes full of impressment.

The She-Elf couldn't help but feel honored as he said, "Your uncanny ability to speak wisely and passionately is unrivaled by anyone I've ever met. You are a wonder, Avalain."

She flushed somewhat and murmured, "Just trying to help," before stepping aside and allowing the Captain of Gondor to address his soldiers.

Just as he was about to say something to them, however, a scout ran towards him. He was young—very young, as if he had only just become of age. His eyes were full of fear as he said something to Boromir and Faramir.

Faramir nodded first and told the young man something. He scampered away, leaving the two Captains exchanging looks yet again.

Boromir sighed and glanced back at Avalain, asking, "Have your bow ready?"

"Always," nodded Avalain, her eyes hard-set. She knew what had been said.

At this, Boromir turned back to his Men and announced, "Men! The time has come sooner than we thought. Get to your positions! The Orcs are coming."

* * *

Hello, everyone! Sorry I've disappeared for the last number of months. I'm sure you all understand that life gets crazy; and with a senior paper and project to take care of, my hands have been rather tied with updating! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. 3

If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, your feedback is always welcome. Thank you again for reading; have a lovely day!

Until next time,

~Avalain Nightshade


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